


A Pinch of Sand Laced With Silver

by Pseudonaut



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Heavy Angst, Loss, Multi, Post-Canon, Some Humor, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonaut/pseuds/Pseudonaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only them, taking shelter from whatever Pandora thinks it can throw at them. One has a broken right leg and nothing to hide, the other is hell bent on justice and answers. While the silvered sandstorm piles up their to one another questions do too. Even debilitated, staying in shelter, through their sand stained eyes, seemed to be far from the priority.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Caper

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the Rhyiona is slow, if you came here for fast paced romance then you'll be disappointed. There's also no exact established time frame for this besides after The Vault Of The Traveller so expect spoilers.
> 
> Chapter 1 focuses on Fiona's story, setting the everything, and Chapter 3 focuses on Rhys', with breaks to the present in between both. Time stamps are marked but it's pretty obvious when it's present and past.  
> With that,  
> Enjoy.

 

 

 

**Somewhere in The Dust,**

**2 hours after the Lynchwood incident**

* * *

 

 

 

 

Even the cluster of sand particles riding the wind couldn't stop Elpis from shining stubbornly through the twilight. Nothing could. It hung around in orbit like a hangman's knot. And with each heavy step the duo took in the moonlight their previous footprints, pressed against the cold, Pandoran sand dissipated. It was getting late. It was getting dangerous. Rhys had pulled his ATLAS hooded jacket over his stinging eye, sand still managing to stab his skin as it flew at him covering his hood in heavy stains. His limp robotic arm had short circuited, coiled pathetically around Fiona's shoulder as she dragged the younger man along.

Rhys couldn't help but wince as he limped. His right leg, suffering a compound fracture of his fibula bone from behind, was scraping gently and painfully along the misshaped stones and desert ground. There was barley any blood loss, and the sand on his bare skin, due to a rolled up pant leg, had taken his mind off it. Not that it was a good thing. It gave Rhys' gritted teeth and sore, inflamed gums an unwarranted, reverse teeth cleaning causing him to dribble like a baby. The metal and heavy ATLAS marked briefcase secured in a death grip by the man's other hand was clearly weighing them down.

She was in better condition. Psychically. Another one of her patchy con artist attire, that she had way too many variants of, was made for conditions like this; second nature on this planet. Even her humble hat was unscathed and shielding her face surprisingly well.

In better shape than Rhys? Yes.

Pissed off? Of course. Practically second nature at this point.

Not at him though, never at him. She could never _truly_   be angry at him, no matter what new and stupid antics he involves her in. This wasn't one. No, what she had been through was a final straw. She felt brittle, stupid, a spiralling mess of an adult. And all her emotions trained over a big stack of cold hard cash. 

 

_So._

_No different from anyone else on Pandora..._

 

 _"_ How the hell did this even happen?! _"_  The con artist screamed loudly and angrily over the flurry of the storm to no one in particular. 

There was no real silence. But between them it felt like it before he replied to the start of her ramble.

"Ar'  'ou  'eing rheto'ical, o'r  'enu'enly a'ing? _"_ Rhys muttered as loud as her in between pained grunts, sand filling his mouth muffling the obvious quip as he pulled his leg along.

Fiona raised a puzzled eyebrow under the mask of her leathery brown hat in reply, shouts turning into growls.  _"_  Wha-What are trying to say- Just, _close_ your mouth, jackass! _"_  

Rhys tried his best to compose himself before speaking again, " I s'ai- _"_ He was cut off by sand crawling into his throat, causing him to stop, causing Fiona to halt as he began violently coughing and spluttering, the crushing wind making it land on his shirt.

Her big eyes widened even larger, face paled as guilt took over her. It probably  _wasn't_  her fault, but she was the one who made him open his big, dumb mouth. She quickly removed her hat from her gaze and used it to keep the sand out of his mouth and eyes. Wincing through the grains she scanned her surroundings, spotting high, sandy mountains touching the stars, all illuminated by Elpis. There were crude caves miles away from them, not viable shelter at all. The wind was so loud it practically deafened her.

Something was visible through the sand to the left of them, there was a glint, moonlight bouncing off something. A window? A sheet of metal? It was still a walk away, but they hadn't come this far to freeze to death in a God-damn desert at night, completely forgotten. At least the sand would bury them. Branded coffin prices were astronomical on Pandora.

As she pondered on price differences of cremation Fiona heard Rhys' pained coughs and shakes, making it ever more real that his leg was at serious risk of infection. 

 _"_ Still good to walk?.. _"_ Fiona smiled brightly at him the best she could, just trying too offer some comfort in his discomfort.

 _"_...Yeah, _"_ Rhys replied, quickly but shakily.  _"_ Always... _"_

In unison, they began trekking towards the glint, at least, Fiona was, Rhys simply following suite. So when she decided to pace faster into the unknown he had no choice. It wasn't selfish of her, she'd helped him enough already, and the quicker they got to shelter the quicker his leg could be fixed. He was close to whimpering, even closer to tears, praying the sand and roaring wind would cover this wave of emotion from his partner.

He looked oddly tranquil to her, maybe it was the lack of fluid on his part, or her impaired vision, but he just seemed at peace in his companion's company. Fiona liked to think he missed this, being outside in Pandora instead of having his feet up in some big, hidden office with marble tiles and diamond water fountains. Or other stuff rich people had. Stupid spats perched on a big glossy black desk filled with wads of cash and files. Maybe hair product.

Definitely hair product if she knew Rhys as well as did. Fiona couldn't help but laugh internally whenever he popped into her thoughts, something that had been happening a lot since the Vault. The con artist was far too proud to admit that, of course. Even with nothing to be proud of. Vault hunting isn't an ideal occupation, especially if she wasn't as good as it as she thought she was, mooching off a younger sister's pay at some sleazy bar and the occasional con wasn't either.

Maybe that's why this job was so important to her, all that green would so quickly change her pocket's color.

The dirty case in his weak hand rattled and bumped loudly against his thigh, the wind unable to drown out the clang. And the contact wasn't enough to take Rhys' mind of the almost excruciating pain he was in. At this point it drove him, the closer they got the more of the flipped over caravan became visible.

It was an old kill of the desert, the wind probably dragging the blanket of sand off the empty relic, forcing it to awake. Any remnant of color was torn off with it, maybe a dash of green was mixed in a mess of rust and aluminium. It was small, it was sealed, it was perfect.

 _"_ Come on! In there!.. _"_ Fiona called semi-enthusiastically to Rhys, who had picked up speed from seeing shelter. 

The duo approached a the back door, and with the caravan being flipped upside down she had to help his leg over a steep step. Fiona was steady and gently as she quickly following him in, finally out of the biting and chilly sandstorm.

It was ransacked, nothing left but a few piles of broken, dry wooded cupboards tossed as the vehicle was. Rhys made himself comfortable on the floor, tossing the briefcase aside with a thud and resting his broken robotic on his stomach as Fiona kept her head down, hat now back on which helped protecting her hair from excess sand that fell through holes in the roof. Or bottom of the caravan, in this case. It all piled up in little areas on the brown fabric that adorned Fiona's head. 

 _"_ How are you holding up? _"_ Her voice finally at a normal volume as she looked behind her shoulder worryingly at him.

Rhys winced and hissed, just nodding back and trying to keep his leg elevated.

Fiona noticed a tattered noose sprawled along the sand dusted ground. She didn't know, or care why it was there, just happy it was. This and the wooden planks was all carried under her arm. Some were for a fire and some for the unpleasantness ahead of them. Quickly, she moved back, hand trailing the brittle 'top' of the caravan before dropping the wood in a scruffy pile and slumping down next to her injured friend. 

Now that same hand was cupping his cheek, the big green eyes he loved glaring into his dead on.

 _"_ Rhys, _"_ tone warned, passing him the untied, long end of the noose.  _"_ I _need_ you too hold onto this and be very brave. Okay? _"_  Her eyes never left his as the knot of the rope was secured snugly around the heel of his chequered boot, the excess rope avoiding any direct contact with the exposed leg and gore. Fiona held his limp up which made Rhys it relax into her grip. The ivory bone sticking around around his bloodied flesh was luckily untouched by the sandstorm. Screaming would have been heard from the other-side of Pandora if the wind had been blowing the opposite direction.

 _"_ O-Okay!.. _"_ Rhys finally croaked, uneasy.

The hand on his face moved to the rope he clung to as well on Fiona's command.

 _"_ Pull. _"_

That was yet another command he obeyed, but, shortly wished he hadn't.

Rhys bit down hard on his lip as he did, even more pain jolting through his leg as the other one kicked furiously. The sharp snaps and cracks of his escaped bone being forced back into place as they both tugged on the noose together bounced around the caravan. Tears were only pricking his eyes through this, making them finally wet again after the other torture they had just been through. Rhys soon let out a cry as, with a satisfying click and a few drops of blood, the bone was back in place. Mostly.

With that, Fiona was fast to act. Tearing off the red band that was around her bowler hat and grabbing the fattest piece of wood and the flattest from the pile. She tossed the old rope aside for kindling and placed the flat plank under his leg snugly and tightly secured it with the cloth she acquired before using the other slab of wood as a foot rest for her partner to use and still keep the leg above the ground.

While whimpering and panting, Rhys grabbed a handful of his hair tightly and let a few the tears fall down both sides of his dry, pale cheeks.

 _"_ It's okay! It's okay! _"_ Fiona cooed, almost on a precipice of herself if it weren't for dehydration. Granted, even that unable to stop her voice breaking. She crawled close to Rhys, holding him securely, lovingly in another more intimate attempt to calm the shaking man.  _"_ It's over! It's over... _"_ She repeated again and again, the changed words echoing in their prison like his cries. The storm raging outside, sand leaking into the caravan ready to swallow them whole.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  **Hollow Point** **,**

**2 and a half hours before the heist**

* * *

 

 

 

The sun was so high above and barley visible, yet it still managed to bake everything below to a crisp. Even being below that below the people and citizens of Hollow Point were essentially in an oven. At least the air conditioning was on the grotty and run down Purple Skag. The sister's treated it as a home away from home, not that home was far away. It was a dump, almost literally. The mountains of stinking trash that surrounded it was bordering on ridiculous. But it was Pandora. More like to find money and ammo in the piles than a box of half eaten, cheap take-out pizza.

Maybe that's why it was empty except for two people.

 _"_ Nervous? _"_ Sasha asked her sister who was sitting on a tattered old barstool in front of her while see worked the tap. 

Even being younger and with more near death experiences Sasha felt more protective over the past year after the Vault. Something had changed in her sister. Like something new was driving her, and _not_ in a good way. 

Fiona raised an eyebrow in reply, finding herself sitting up straighter, taken aback by the question. 

 _"_ Nervous, Sash? Are you serious? _"_ She replied in a deep demeaning tone, hoping her sister knew that it was peppered with a lack of seriousness.

The kid sister filled up a semi-clean mug with a pale ale from the valve, watching cautiously as the amber liquid rose, growing a thick head of foam, unable to see Fiona's playfully and hurtful expression.

 _"_ It's okay to be nervous. Even if you have done this, like, a million times... Well. Almost like this... _"_   Sasha chuckled out the last few words before quickly back into position of manning the tap. She flicked her fringe back as she looked back up, grabbing a bloody red coaster from the side of the dusty stained counter before placing it down and resting her sister's drink on it.

Fiona offered another strange look, one the younger woman could see this time.  _"_ What was the point of that? I mean, this place is already filthy!.. _"_ There was a giggle at the end of the sentence as she lazily wrapped her fingers around the mug, making them comfortingly cool and damp.

Instead of replying Sasha simply shrugged and smiled widely at Fiona, waiting for her to drink - wanting one herself if she wasn't working at a bar no one ever came to anyway after August slumped away on the other side of Hollow Point. Sasha had visited him, still partially obsessed with her. And she would be lying if she didn't find it flattering and appreciate the ability to successfully comfort someone.

Fiona moved her fingers higher up the mug before gripping it and lifting it to her faded ruby lips. Taking her time. At first. Fiona noted how cold and quenching the beer was. Well. Maybe it wasn't. It could have just been an illusion from the heat since beer never usually tasted good down in the town. It was amazing how hot the cave is in the day, and how cold it gets at night. Hollow Point never had been the most _ideal_ living space.

A wall of silence was put between them as Fiona drunk, thinking of what was ahead of her. Robbing the Lynchwood bank.

It had been done before. But ever since the change in management the little train-yard town had increased in size and population. Sheriff Winger really making a difference to the people was harrowing, inspirational almost. He did care for all his people, unlike his predecessor. Guilt hadn't crossed Fiona's mind. It still hadn't. Maybe the alcohol pushed it down her throat like the drink itself. This heist was big. Messy, something new to Fiona since her attempt at Vault Hunting.

 

 

 

 

  ** ~~-~-~~**

 

 _"_ Oh yeah! _"_  Rhys interrupted, still tightening the band around his leg while Fiona tended to the blazing fire that warmed them.  _"_ What ever happened to the Vault Hunting gig? _"_ He clumsily knocked the briefcase to the side, making her roll her eyes. He couldn't help but notice how the fire reflected beautifully off them.

 _"_ First of all;  _never_ refer too... anything, as a 'gig' again. And secondly, that's none of your business. Now, are you going to let me continue or are you going to be a baby and cry like before? _"_ Fiona mocked lovingly to his dismay.

Rhys let out a gasped chuckle,  _"_ You're the one who asked 'How the hell did this even happen' or whatever, not me! So don't act like I'm _so_ desperate to hear you talk. Also, resetting a bone really fucking hurts!.. _"_

She sighed, and as the storm rained down around them Fiona thought how cute Rhys was when he was fussy.  _"_ And when I asked, after you were done sobbing, if you wanted me to kiss it better you went as pale as a ghost and looked a bit like a castrated puppy. I thought you had lost even more blood. _"_ Fiona laughed.

And even if she was gleefully mocking him it made Rhys smile.

 

~~**-~-** ~~

 

 

 

 

Sasha smiled and gazed dreamily at the broken ceiling fan. "Just to think, we'll be out of here after you pull this off- _"_

 _" If_ I pull this off. _"_ Fiona cut her off, loudly, louder than she anticipated. It did help to get the message around.  _"_ Getting out alive is fine, sure. Getting out with the cash is another story. Lynchwood is packed with deputies, and the bank is a _lot_ bigger than it used to be! _"_

 _"_ Nervous? _"_ Sasha repeated, teasingly, watching her sister with intent.

Finishing her drink, Fiona caved in and nodded quickly. 

 _"_ Last time something this big happened... Well. Rhys happened. _"_

They had both talked with Rhys since the Vault. Talked with everyone they met. It was almost a year ago when they said goodbye to Vaughn and his Children of Helios. Neither of them new where Gortys and Loader-Bot went. August, of course stayed in Hollow Point, but never really recovered after his mother's death, granted that was one thing Fiona felt guilt over. She hadn't seen Athena, even with the Vault Hunting and knowing that she was safe from backlash of her kidnapping and recovery before they fought the Traveller.

And Rhys, well, he run his company. Finally got what he wanted. Life and work mingled into a slowly dying mess and they lost each other. Besides Sasha, that silly man was her only  _real_ friend. But she would never cave in and admit how much she missed him any time soon.

 _"_ Just... try not to hang around. Okay? _"_ Sasha spoke solemnly, taking the empty glass away.  _"_ The quicker we can leave and say our goodbyes the better. _"_

Fiona pursed her lips.  _"_ I hope that wasn't meant to come of as bitter as it did, Sash. _"_

 _"_ I'm sorry, really. I know we've built something here but this year has just been a grind. And besides, I just want you out of there and as far away as possible. _"_

The elder sister swallowed hard, still tasting the yeast and malt.  _"_ I'd slap you for complaining if I didn't love you so damn much. _"_ Fiona replied, sincerely.

 _"_ I'd like to see you try. _"_ Sasha smiled back,  _"_ And I love you too, sis. _"_

And with that, not bothering to say a real goodbye to Sasha, Fiona stood out of her bar stool and walked briskly out the bar, pushing on the flimsy wooden door and tip toeing down the stone stairs to get to a fast travel station. She never said goodbye to her properly. The last time she had was when she died. Now, instead, always knowing she be seeing her sister again.

How ever long that took. 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Lynchwood's Old Train Station,**

**40 minutes before the heist**

* * *

 

 

 

 

She had sources on the inside, of course. Some townsfolk, various friends of friends. The sun had gone in and Fiona was getting ready. She was always a lone wolf in a sense. Sasha was by her side, of course, but at the same time she wasn't. Fiona felt like her sister was the front-runner in their operations. Only because of Felix's absence.

That absence carried on through his death.

Her murder.

Even if the briefcase's bomb killed him, Fiona felt as if she could of said anything, just a shout to the man that raised her, was practically a father to her. And she didn't. The fact Fiona, feeling no guilt for taking the life of both of the women's carer made it even worse. The sisters had resented it since.

Maybe it was for the money, maybe it was because they could _never_ do the same too him. Maybe it was just how easy it was for Felix to do it.  Briefcases contents always cause trouble, not just for the capitalist companies controlling the galaxy. And speaking of, the real score was from some company stooge, high up, of course. They had to be if the score was this big. Hyperion, _Dahl_ , hell, even ATLAS. It didn't matter. The five-hundred million being temporarily held behind the pristine gates of the new Lynchwood bank did. That's the reason Fiona acted fast, her bootprints in the boiling hot sand served as a farewell as the woman calmly but quickly made her way past the dusty train station.

The reason this path suited her needs best was that no citizen would dare set foot in this grim reminder of what this quaint, little backwater town was only a few years ago. Another one was the amount of security checks she needed too pass like anyone else would. And no one would dream of tangling with the Sheriff's Skag riders except Vault Hunters. But that was far behind her.

All of this over paranoia, Sheriff Winger's rule was an improvement from an anarchistic girlfriend of Handsome Jack himself to a borderline fascist. Everyone knew this, and everyone accepted it. Gun's being regulated so that only deputies could carry the stray, tattered Jakob's revolver was a double edged sword to anyone planning on stealing from the new Lynchwood. Fiona appreciated the lack of weapons if things went haywire. But would naturally rather be in a gunfight against someone she could actually kill if the needs must.

Blending and weaving past creaking the sand infected steel beams and rusty train carts, never closed, Fiona made her way to the stairs of the station. As quick as she wanted out of this metallic and dark graveyard she didn't want the stairs to topple beneath her grit covered boots. So she took one gently step at a time, each consecutively lead her ears closer and closer to the sound of chatter from the people of Lynchwood going by their daily routines. Happy town goers, people drinking early at another one of Pandora's sleazy bars. A good sign to a skilled con artist. There was more to the trade than just conning cash, the ability to blend in is always equally as important.

Outside the the lazily barricades of wood planks the ritual began. As quick as she slipped out the station she was just another one of them. Lynchwood wasn't densely populated but she still managed to fit in a crowd, following the direction they splintered off into, some clearly shopping, many leaving work, always the stray nervous one among that tier, case clutched in a sweating hand, all their feet marching against the sand in unity making it hiss as the foreign objects were packed onto the grains. 

What used to be some back alley garden shed was now a real bank. As real as they get at least. The sheet metal that the large, rectangular building was made of reflected the nearly setting sun as it shun bright above the building making it resemble a spotlight. Or a searchlight to purge thieves from the shadows.

 

 

 

 

~~**-~-** ~~

 

 _"_ So you robbed the bank? By yourself? _"_ Rhys asked slowly, wondering if Fiona was exaggerating. She was in much worse shape when he found her. Flustered and running, obviously from the Lynchwood mob and Deputies. He didn't doubt her skills, just her storytelling. Being tied and dragged through another desert, being force to listen to her words retell a familiar tale made Rhys pick up on her quirks and styles. Although he wished that he didn't get to know her that way. They could never talk and be  _normal_ ,not one time. There always had to be more bullshit pinning them in a corner. 

And Rhys would be damned if he didn't cherish those moments.

 _"_ I  _am_ about too. You just cut off my side of the story, again! _"_ Fiona spat out, not meaning to sound so vicious and blunt as she did, especially after they had just turned a corner before she starting telling her story again. Knowing this didn't stop the fact she had grumbled in a yell at him earning what she deciphered as a pained and sad look from a curious man pandering to realism.

 _"_ That's probably a record for the shortest amount time you've gone without yelling while we're in a room together. _"_ Rhys replied, a bitter smile fake on his depressed face.  _"_ You know, it's pretty hard to be normal and act like we're real people when we're together if you can't take it when I cut you off. I just speak and you... knock me down. _"_

It would hurt anyone if someone they cared for took that long to snap, and only at them.

She let out another long sigh, something she found herself doing a lot in his company, never too sure why. Fiona enjoyed his company as much as she hoped he enjoyed her own. It took a giant, marvelled space station that broke apart Elpis to produce someone she cared for in a way she had never felt before. Without much experience in the matter, it made Fiona ponder if other people out there had a relationship as beautifully complicated and fantastic and theirs'.

More silence between them made the room cramped, only the noise of a crackling fire allowed it to breathe against the sandstorm, still unrelenting and trying to kill the couple and eat them up.

 _"_ I was scared. _"_ Fiona muttered as she looked down at her legs, still slumped in front of the warming flames.  _"_ I think. Well, I know I stopped Vault Hunting because I was scared. _"_ She grabbed a stick from the fire, poking at the kindling in an attempt to occupy herself.

It wasn't what Rhys  _expected_ out of her but it gave him the answer to the earlier question. He didn't reply, not a peep to ruin this sombre moment of surprising and perplexing peace. Just clenched his jaw and ground his teeth so slightly it was unnoticeable until he was ready to change the conversation back.

 _"_ I'm sorry I keep interrupting, _"_ The rhythm in his voice was calm and steady, almost plain, even for an injured man.

 _"_ And I'm sorry for everything. All the yelling and patronizing... _"_  Her voice cracked guiltily, piercing eyes never once wavering from being locked downwards.  _"_ It's just this situation, I'm under stress. I'm just worried about you and you're leg, but you're so damn calm and so... you around me. _"_

 _"_ I'm just happy that I'm with you again, Fiona. _"_

For once she didn't even need to contribute to their back and forth sermons. Just acknowledge what was happening, and quietly wait for a juncture to continue.

 

 

 

 

**~~-~-~~ **

 

 

 

 

The interior of Lynchwood's bank was the same as the outside. Relatively. Interior of sparkling clean sheet metal served as walls for various split of sections; waiting rooms, check in cheques, the works. Despite various companies owning the galaxy and it's tumor, Pandora, with all this modernization included the planet could never truly be commercialized from a baron, dusty wasteland. Where she was standing was far too pristine, flamboyant almost in it's interior design, trying to mask some memories from not so long ago. It seemed noble, maybe, from a distance. But altogether it was filled with malice, the staff fairly bitter, security seem more interested in ogling over belongings than people's safety. Or the safety of the money stored in a makeshift vault that was really just a glorified lock box storage.

This seemed perfect.

Now all Fiona needed to do was asking about setting up a checking account. Probably the _least_ dramatic thing this plan involved.

With confidence and some sass, Fiona made her way to the closest person in a fancy navy blue pant suit. One had just finished talking to a family sitting on a couch. She had black hair, a tan, bright and luscious red lipstick to which went well with the bronze eye shadow she doned. None of this effort could scrape away the grime of Pandoran life, even if the attempt was valiant, it made the staff look so displaced. Like they didn't belong in their own skin. And since Fiona always had a talent for adapting to situations, living and breathing Pandora instead of pretending to be something she wasn't was natural. Not that the bank workers  _chose_  to dress as they did, probably another one of the Sheriff's ideas. 

As the woman whose name-tag Fiona didn't care to check wobbled away from the family on high heels she felt a tap against her shoulder. The con artist greeted her with a plastered on grin before quickly swinging into action.

 _"_ Hello! I am  _so_ sorry to bother you, but I was told that you could update my savings account? I just moved here and, ugh, you know how stressful it is getting everything together! _"_ Fiona rambled away, barley listening to the buttered words pouring out from the tip of her silver tongue.

 _"_ Of course! _"_ The personal banking manager chirped back,  _"_ I will, of course, need to check over a few things with you first. Just follow me into somewhere a little more private. _"_

Fiona obeyed, keeping close behind her as the woman led her across the wooden floor, occasionally covered by carpet to a windowless little section of room on the right side of the bank. Inside was a desk with two worn, black leather chairs to either side of them. In the corner of the small space was a file cabinet and in another was a water machine on it's last legs. Fairly standard. One thing that was missing was a camera. Not so standard.

They both sat down, the con artist, now with her back to the door, found herself fiddling with her pockets under the desk, searching for two tools she may need to pull this off.

 _"_ So, you're interested in setting up an account her and transferring money from a previous bank, yes? _"_

 _"_ Indeed I am! _"_ Fiona replied enthusiastically as her sharp mind began scheming.

 _"_ So how long have you been here in Lynchwood? _"_

 _"_ Only a few weeks, moving in and meeting neighbors before getting the nitty-gritty done. _"_

 _"_ Well, Lynchwood is more civilized than the name suggests, especially compared to the rest of Pandora. _"_ The manager laughed, Fiona noticed how smug she looked. Noticing flaws in people did make them easier to knock out. Much less guilt.

 _"_ So, do you have your previous bank account details? _"_ She continued.

 _"_ Hate to be a nuisance, but is that water machine complementary? _"_ Fiona interrupted, quickly, unable to answer that question and hoping her plan A worked.

A smile still spread across the woman's face, _"_ Of course, please, help yourself! _"_

The con artist stood up and pushed her chair aside with a clenched left fist as she made her way to the machine. She took a polystyrene cup from the dispenser before hesitating.

 _"_ Would you like a water? _"_ Fiona asked politely, earning a single nod in reply.

Unnoticeably, she un-clenched her fist revealing a small, circular white pill with a dent scored through the middle which she added to the cup. That same hand now grazed the blue battered switched below the water tank which Fiona pressed down on with her thumb. The water tank bubbled and spat as the roofie began to shrink slightly below the water.

Fiona turned around, passing the cup to the manager who immediately took a long and gentle gulp of laced water.  _"_ Oh no - It's stuck. _"_ Fiona lied as she fake tugged on the vertical cup holder, twisting and squeezing, even when they were already loose.

In a matter of time she heard a thud from behind her back, turning around and walking back to the now passed out manager. She had about half and hour. Old habits kicked in as her hands nabbed the purse from around the woman's shoulder, picking out any cash and valuable items, leaving personal possessions on the desk.

 _"_ It wasn't stuck. I just  _really_ didn't want to keep talking to you. _"_

She proceeded to stuff her tattered jacket and hat into the purse before picking up her knocked out victim and dragging her down on the floor before undressing her began, taking a new disguise.

 

 

 

 

~~**-~-** ~~

 

 _"_ This must sound so fucked up out of context. _"_

Fiona bumbled, embarrassed, as Rhys smiled as smug as the bank worker was.

 _"_ Even  _in_ context this is fucked up! _"_ Rhys practically giggled, making him steady his broken leg with both hands.  _"_ In context you're a thief stealing someone's clothes and without context you're just stealing clothes - Hell, it's worse in context! _"_

Bunching up her lips, she tried not to laugh, not seeing him this pleased in a long time made her want to. Fiona just bottled up her happiness and enjoyed watching the reaction to he surreal life, ignoring a warm feeling spreading through her. It wasn't the fire, it wasn't blood, but it was so deep. You'd have to rip it out of her fast, beating heart to feel it.

There was something missing in her life, for so long Fiona hadn't notice it, just lived without it. Something amazing and stupid and smart and wonderful. A thing that was everything and made her feel everything. Something she would kill for and be killed for. And she had killed for it.

It was kind, it was gentle but tough, it was sitting in the middle of a sandstorm with a broken leg, laughing it's ass off.

It was Rhys.

And it was making her cry to feel a force so magnificent in her fractured life.

 

~~**-~-** ~~

 

 

 

 

 

Paranoia swayed over Fiona as she so casually strolled out of the room with a handbag stuffed with clothes. No one noticed, and no one seemed to care. It was almost closing time anyway. She locked the room behind her with a silver key she imagined all staff had, one she borrowed from her new attire's pant pocket. She made her way briskly to the front of the bank, noticing a room to her far right labelled as "Staff Only". Fiona made an even quicker way there, hoping camera's didn't pick up her face earlier. They were in short supply, old tech just littered on ceiling corners, everything on this planet was rusted and worn. It was a pattern Pandora had stuck with well.

Once inside she followed a long corridor down, doors on each side. Flowery and mismatched wallpaper filled the walls, it was almost menacing. Ignoring the various employee bathrooms Fiona stuck to the left, finding a door that led behind the gates where transactions took place. There were still staff sitting on chairs and handing people cheque books and what-not. She was one of them now, able to see the bank from their eyes, behind barred cells, like a prison. 

The way to the lock-boxes was directly behind her, sealed by a vault door with a self turning handle. It wasn't to stiff, and with a tight grip of the handle and a turn upwards Fiona heard one of the most satisfying metallic clangs that had ever serenade her ears.

In she slipped, keeping the door open behind her slightly. It was one way, she'd be trapped if someone were to close the it, so Fiona acted fast. The room was square, each wall embedded with steel, black safes all varying in sizes, all marked in yellow paint with numbers. 

 

 _175_. 

 

Out of the 200 boxes she needed 175. It wasn't hard to find, it was near the middle, a big one, probably ready to burst. She knew the combination from one of the sources.

But. Of course, there was a problem.

It was already open.

Fiona felt her heart sink as she dropped everything she was carrying in defeat, running over too the safe, opening it fully and staring into a dark, empty and pitch black abyss. She felt betrayed, unsure by who. People that knew people she trusted was ruled out. Her people couldn't have possibly made a mistake in such a small town with a simple plan. Timing? Contents? Wrong bank?

It didn't matter.

And she couldn't feel tears streaming from her eyes and staining her skin and make-up as she slammed the safe open and closed loudly and repeatedly, setting off the alarm, making them ring loudly over her sobs of panic.


	2. Teleport Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Mix blood with me.
> 
> All in.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intermission between Chapter 1 and 3. This was originally only going to have two chapters but I decided that the ending of Episode 5 needed to be explained in my version of the ending and canon. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience.
> 
> And thank you for reading.
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/

 

 

 

 

**Somewhere in The Dust,**

**The middle of the night**

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was strange. Sleep alone in this situation was strange with that deathly bellowing of sand clashing against tin outside this shelter. Perhaps Fiona's dreams were even more unexpected. Because it's hard to describe how you can dream about something you never saw. The mind filling in blanks like a disturbed puzzle piece, which each piece lacking any satisfaction as they made their place.

And that was fine, it was a memory, she tried not to dwell on them. They were just reminders after-all, a collection of mistakes. Her memories had to be or else she wouldn't have ended up lying on her back in the middle of a desert using a scroungy hat as makeshift support for a weary head supply the same thoughts she prayed would escape.

Fiona could almost feel the irony filling her ear drums.

Perhaps that was Rhys' snoring.

How he slept before her was another mystery to add to the pile they'd both rather throw into that spitting bonfire besides them.

Trusty companion. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Somewhere in The Vault of The Traveler,**

**Unknown time, post-opening**

* * *

 

 

 

 

Purple haze had hampered their peripherals as soon as the majesty of the cracked, black stone chest before the couple had haphazardly graced their eager touch. But that was nothing like this. Pain that coursed into their skin, each pore and jagged cut this planet gifted them sparked and frenzied in a cacophony of heat. Like wax dripping into an open wound, but with no wound. It made it hard to stop, focus. They wondered if the other felt the same or if this sudden torment was an amalgamation of their past sins that had finally caught up and ripped them apart.

He was guilty. It didn't help that his apostle prayed nightly at his headless splendor caked in graffiti from a home turned home he once knew. All that life snuffed out, and they would have still hated him for destroying what was left of Handsome Jack. No one knew him like he knew him. And he wished he didn't.

She had killed the only man she would never call father. Even if he would have done the same it didn't change that a part of her loved the face the bastard made before he was scattered like the green notes, blackened and charred that would cake the mining facility turned stadium. His final resting place.

Weightless but falling the wrong way was all they could focus on other than the pain. Their feet felt like they were in the wrong place, the wrong space, like gravity was shifting around them. Maybe it was, this Vault had surprised them enough already. From the moment they stepped in the Pandoran refugees had been detached from home despite still being there.

Perhaps they were, in spirit, still being talked about among friends and comrades. Time could have leaped forward for all they knew. A shooting of spikes in their veins drowned out their last thoughts in their plane before fingers suspended like puppets on a string felt stone once more.

Fiona was the first to land, nails once painted red, scratched and chipped into the graying obsidian below her hands and knees. It was hot, not burning, but unnatural. Still, all she could see was white. A milky, burning so bright white that hugged her vision with no consent. And even in feeling herself blink it failed to remedy the torture it provided. The one thing that could give her any comfort, a soothing replacement for the hell fire that clouded her would be his face.

" Rh-Rhys?! " Fiona's cracked and high pitch voice cried out in a sob of sheer desperation that he was still with her. The screams reverberated in a sickening echo going upwards towards the ray of warmth that shone steady onto her back. Like a perverted form of comfort that signaled her fears; they had moved.

The con artist heard stumbling moving clumsily towards her, causing a quick reaction of another stumble from herself. Blindness made legs drag up grit and dust as she moved away, unable to see what was pursuing her. So she did what she was half-trained to do and drew her Rashambo, as ready to fire it's three elements as the day Felix had gifted the pistol to her. Even without a gaze on the iron sights she knew her arm was straight, shaking finger now lightly pushing into the trigger so temptingly ready for release. Before that damn voice averted bloodshed.

" Stop! Stop! Fiona, stop! " Rhys croaked, equally horse, hands defensively covering his face, and obviously able to see the sight of the sights pointing at him as he stepped slow and cautiously towards his dazed partner in crime. " God...what's wrong with you? "

" Rhys?.. " Fiona said as shakily as her trigger-finger. 

She managed to crawl forward, cutting her palm and grazing knees as she did.

" Rhys, I-I can't see! "

His face turned noticeable sour, not that she knew or could behold his discomfort. Rhys was sensing genuine distress and discomfort from the woman he knew as being so calm and collected was a slumped, blinded pile of rotting emotion before him. His slow speed suddenly increased as the severity of their situation hit like a brick on the back of his head. A mangled and warped crunch filling his ears as Rhys slumped below to her level. 

Sweaty and uneasy palms were her comfort as contact from him, even against tattered leather of her jacket, felt divinely. Whether any touch in that moment would spark the same reaction in the seemingly scotomaphobic woman was unbeknownst to the both of them. But sadly, no veil was lifted as she was, helped up by the gripping hands she had learnt to love.

Fiona gripped his black suit as soon as a fingertip brushed over her, dragging Rhys down slightly to her level. Quickly he was able to reverse this, pulling her up to stand on trembling legs. The sounds of her feet scrapping and scratching against silky stone was the intermission of their worry.

" Are you good to walk?.. " Rhys asked timidly, dreading the answer as he watched his back, the pale ray of light above them bounced around whatever less than narrow cave or cavern they were trapped in.

With a gulp Fiona replied while steadying herself on his left side, an arm now draped around his back to grip the front of his shirt, the other arm still clinging tight to his sleeve. Her blinking rapid, vision still a bright flash.

" Y-Yeah... Always. "

A once loud proclamation of shouts sounded shrill and bitter at the situation, pang-ing Rhys with pity and a fresh bout of confidence to tread deeper into the dimming twilight of the ravine. What would be fast and cowardly sprinting in any other situation was cautious, methodical, now he had extra feet to navigate alongside his own. Jagged stone that barley matched the obsidian below them was fracturing from the walls around them, making them feel more enclosed than they were. Sprouting from the ashy planet was a hive of sharp, purple crystals. Dangerous looking minerals that opened a strange familiarity in the two.

Each step taken was a risky delve into further darkness away from the comfort of illumination that Fiona could only feel. It must have made Rhys seem braver than he was. In truth it was the only way they could go except climbing up, and he was not prepared to leave her stranded. His fear culminating an out of character altruism paired with selfishness of being alone. The man could kick himself all he wanted for this unhealthy mix of conflicting thoughts if he wasn't aware of the fact Fiona would be feeling the exact same in his position.

The crystals were almost luminescent themselves from the sunlight absorbed, and this needed as now their pounding footsteps were encased in darkness except for a faint purple glow. Rhys looked back, quickly, hearing a foaming slosh of liquid all around him. His suddenly stiff companion was alerted with this.

" What the fuck is that, Rhys? " Fiona barked in a whisper that the cavern still captured in an echo. Her sightless eyes still searched for any reassurance behind her sealed eyelids.

A real and fake eye willed to dart across the walls of the ravine. " I think I'll get back to you when I figure that out. " He replied uneasily, holding his blind partner a little closer and tighter, not certain whether this action was for his comfort or her own.

Fiona let out a disgusted noise, " Wow. Thanks for the comfort... " Sarcasm tinged words were more than obvious, even if fear underlined them. All of her other senses were heightened in some attempt at adjustment from the con artist's body. 

She could smell fruit, like faint citrus. A sweet metallic scent that hung in the air among the contrast of Rhys' cologne, purely artificial chemicals that still comforted Fiona more than his stupid words. Almost as sweet an attempt as the smell of this cave that by now was wearing her boots' soles thin from heavy steps. Real fear was now taking over her just from knowing she may never have a picture burnt in her memory of what she could place in the aroma's stead. Couldn't even _see_ memories in that moment.

And now, in that moment, her eyes began to water ever so slightly.

Holding the tears back was for Rhys' sake, not her own.

Darkness still filled the cavern to the point where the traces that accompanied the two was now far behind them. Rhys stopped, abruptly, much to Fiona's displeasure.

" What are you doing? Why aren't you moving? " Fiona sounded panicked.

" It's alright, it's okay. I'm just getting a light. " He reassured while tinkering with the shimmering hunk of wires and metal that made an arm.

She swallowed before resting her head on the outskirts of Rhys' shoulder. " How dark is it? "

" To put it bluntly, Fiona? I can probably see about as much as you can. "

No words were spoken for a short time after that, just the sound of a light-bulb sparking to life followed by only the cheesiest of generic hard-drive whirring and regret of a deliberately poor choice of words. A pale blue light now shone in a cone of visibility, christening the wet looking rocks it ghosted over.

Their footsteps and combined, heavy, synchronized breathing were now slowly becoming overpowered by the sound of rushing water trickling around them. Each move forward made anxious stone below them tremble, Rhys noticing how much hollower the ground felt the further from the drop they went. Perhaps their prison or path was a lake concealed underground. 

But all that water had to go somewhere, it wouldn't have been pushing and forcing it's way past this barbed corridor of minerals. There was only one place it could go. A sickening realization made Rhys' stomach leap inside of him, just the thought alone that on a barren area of- where ever the hell they were the only way they had to go was  _down_ a subterranean river.

Light from Rhys's palm seemed to be going cloudier the deeper that got. He couldn't even see the light behind them anymore, just a thick, warm mist that filled lungs, his insides feeling uncomfortably moist as the rocks.

Fiona bit her teeth clamped shut as the shock of the air changing hit her. " Wh- " Her question cut off as she began coughing as her sharp, petrified gasps forced her to swallow this steam without consent.

" Hey- Hey, just relax, okay? It's just vapor or something, I-I think we're in some-kind-of underground river. " Rhys rubbed her side, fingers moving on Fiona's slowly moistening jacket reassuringly for the first time since he clung to her. A fruitless attempt to sooth. 

" How can I relax, Rhys? I can't see a thing! " The blind woman began sobbing into her words, the tears making no indent on her skin that was already coated with condensation that stuck to both of them now.

Taking a moment to reply, Rhys swallowed hard, the cave growing warmer. It was almost inviting, like a warm blanket to the uninitiated.  
" I wont let anything happen to you. " 

As kind as his words were they were hollow to Fiona, damage was done the moment she landed. But telling her guardian that she had given up would dampen the little hope they had of being above ground again. Moving forward was the only purpose she felt in a long time, always moving forward. Running to heists, running from bandits, running to treasures and running into a Vault. Even when slowed her feet were being hauled forward. Perhaps that was why, always an anomaly dictating her life. Maybe free-will is a myth.

Suddenly, she fell, hearing Rhys thump down in a harsh bass beside her, groaning in pain.

" Fuck!... " The groans the man made filled the muggy air.

Fiona made an attempt to stand, taking awhile, she gripped a stone poking from what felt like a dead end for support.

" I, " She felt a laugh filling her chest, " I think I need to make sure nothing happens to you- "

" -Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't look at the ground next time... " Rhys said groggily as he aimed his digital light from the rough floor and at Fiona.

That familiar whir from his arm began again, his torch cut off from it's purpose. Silence was replaced finally, the rushing water was ear piercing but ever-so-calming. He bent his knee and stood back up, despite finally hearing noise the only thing she could focus on was the eerie absence from her partner.

" C'mon... I'm already blind, don't tell me you've gone mute. " Fiona said, tone half way between nervous and comedic, the veritable uncanny valley of speech. " Maybe I deserve this. Penance for the shit I've stolen over the years. "

She waited for a reply, some subdued words of encouragement to keep going. Anything to make her laugh from Rhys' lies and just stop the tears from flowing out of useless sockets. " Like I could ever catch a break anyway. Just always waiting for something or someone to fall out the sky and make me rich. "

A small smile perched across the corners of her trembling mouth as her rhetoric slipped like silk from her lips. " Too much to ask? " 

Quickly, Fiona felt Rhys grip her again, much harder than before, painfully so as she was tugged along the direction her back was turned too, closer to what she could only guess from the sounds growing even louder was the source of the water.

The unnatural light that guided Rhys into a secluded section of the cavern of beautiful, crystal clear waterfalls beside a natural bridge wasn't his this time. It was agonizingly purple, emitting from an object he hadn't expected to lay his eyes on ever again. Both of them almost soaked by steam and avoiding tumbling into the pit where the climbing water flowed freely below them. Fiona felt this steadiness, deciding it best to let Rhys lead this bizarre tango he failed to mention why they were forced to partake.

A hum called and guided him, a metal hand slowly reaching towards the object levitating atop a cracked, barley white pillar. Each inch elapsed the pulsing prize that lay before them, forcing his partner along with him. She was confused by the slow pace, baffled almost from this sudden shift of motion. It was fruitless to stop it, he clearly had some plan, and asking, whispering his name would do nothing to subvert it.

" _Rhys_?.. "

Fiona whispered so close to his ear, he could feel each hair standing on it's edge. Follicles previously matted down by warmth made contact with breathe even hotter it boiled against the drenched flesh of the side of his head. Such a strong warmth the crept into his mind, making his shoulder twitch on the mention of his name.

So close now, just a fake fingertip away, contact would make him as ecstatic as her calling his name.

 

 

 

 

**~~-~-~~ **

 

Pain.

 

Purple.

 

All over again. Persistent suffering that inflicted them felt worse this time. Rhys thought it was some punishment for what had just happened, he was no better than the fantasy he had grown like an apple tree around her. Tricking his perception the way the Vault had done to her.

Fiona felt tortured, and whatever strange sense of justice she felt was deserved fell as quick as she did the last time. 

Blinking a few times she awoke, blurred sight slowly gifted to her before becoming clearer and clearer. Faced with a familiar carved stone it was obvious they were back in the Vault of The Traveler. Her head turned to see a opened chest, the light that took them away, took away her vision, now gone. She let fresh air take control of her, although damp, the steam that stole her breath was gone, replaced by heavy, audible gasps of what little relief she still had.

A thunderous, rolling split the surface of the splintered, purple tint of the room they stood above. The now tumbling man was in a daze as he chased a Vault key down the flight of stairs they walked up stoically, an event what felt like a lifetime ago. Her face changed the moment she saw the key, much like his did. Just a part of her wished that one of the only people left she didn't have the right to trust felt the same sense of hatred she was brewing like a storm.

" Rhys. "

Hairs stood up for a much different reason that before as a booming voice crept around the stairs, following him as he managed to snatch the key on the first platform. The towering arched exit judging him as he checked over the key for any damage. Much more durable than a fake, it seemed. What scared him more was how calm she sounded.

Fiona staggered down the stair way towards him, jumping gaps, scuffed shoes growing thin from the slabs of glowing footing scratching. Fists moving between scrunched and still as knees bent, speed picking up before finally facing him and the treasure he held almost as hard as the charioteer's grip on her wounded frame in that untouched cave.

" Fiona, I- "

She slapped him once, fast, the un-gloved skin of her palm tingling with a burning passion from the contact of his cheek. Another quick slap made the man who was already shocked stagger and wince loudly.

" You fucking asshole... " Fiona cried silently, " Thought if I was blind you could just take that?.. " Her make-up, already semi-smeared from the heat was now being torched with tears finally able to be let loose.

Rhys held his face in pain, his eyes betraying any kind of reason he could apply to his sentiments. " What else was I supposed to d- "

" Tell me! "  Her ear piercing scream could have broken out the portal that took them here. " But no! That would be too must to ask, wouldn't it? Who knows which would be dead weight first, what you'd let go of first if we never made it out of there!.. " The breathes she gulped so soon dissipated before him.

He was struggling with anything to say back, maybe because he did deserve it. This array of spite like bullets from a gun single-handedly hurt more than whatever happened when they teleported or fell through the cracks in the chest.

" Are you implying you wouldn't have done the same? Huh? At any opportunity, if I was like you were? " Rhys wasn't as good as regaining composure in his voice when he wanted too, not as well as her. He was close to breaking, seeing only hypocrisy and someone he didn't ever want to hurt before him. Far too late for that now.

An answer was forming, forming out of stories and tales of hurt and tragedy Fiona knew her stooge had witnessed and heard from Sasha and herself.

" You don't know what it's like to have nowhere to turn to, not doing what you want- "  

" Yeah, well, how the  _fuck_ would know either?!" He broke, " Like you've ever had to get off your ass a day in your life and actually work to get somewhere?! Without stealing everything those greedy, fucking, palms touch! " Rhys's barrage of untamed anger berated Fiona. " Not wanting to do what you want? News flash! " He clapped loudly to get her attention, " That's life! "

He let out an exasperated laugh as a means to cover any trace of melancholy creeping past his throat.

" Can you even begin to imagine the stress when some monotonous...Bitch- breathes down my neck when I try and do is fucking help! " His last sentence was accompanied by a flurry of gestures and whimpered blabbering and trapped words that were caught in his throat like a fish gasping from a hook. 

" -Help?! "

" How much have I done for you, to get you here?! " Even his voice started to crack like the otherworldly material they stood on. " Isn't one fake Vault key just- " He stopped himself, fully self aware. " It's worth a real one, Fiona... " 

She wanted to spit something back, order him to never to speak to her in that manner or dare to use those words in her presence. If she wasn't so aware of the fact she's said much worse to him. Only thing worse than a hypocrite would be a _blind_ one. But that patience she rarely grabbed tighter than handshake after a deal was loosing grip with each syllable. Sniffing, she folded her arms, brow furrowing with a menace.

" I couldn't see, Rhys. "

His own gaze hit his brightly colored socks. 

Fiona swallowed hard, managing to open her throat only slightly. " Of course you'd exploit that. And the gall to even think I'd do the same to you, if you were blind. To think I would ever leave you behind. " Shaking voice, she stepped slowly to her right. " If you want to leave with that key, then do it. Maybe just kill yourself then. Just jump here. " He broke her while she tried to do the same to his already shattered pieces.

" Do it! " She yelled, intended to pierce his heart deep as she point into the maw of mystery off the edge of the platform. 

Defeated, hurt, residual pain all built up in his once weak arms doing _nothing_ but pencil-push all day, every day. The key fell with barley a noise by the side where she once was. And with a face still red from where she had struck him, Rhys retaliated, pushing her a little, toppling Fiona to almost fall from the platform. 

Eyes flared from once green and peaceful to a crimson mass of bloodshot veins as the vigor that controlled Fiona was now used to punch Rhys in his stomach. A pained noise she had become unnaturally accustomed too emanated from him before he hit her back, knuckles cracking from contact with her jaw.

He was on his back and she on top of him as quick as the insults they hurled at one-another, his forearms guarding a bombardment of jabs she used to tore at his black suit jacket, bluntly at one of her reasons for breathing. Rhys tried to tumble each time, Fiona intervening, sitting on his waist and pinning him down, she head-butted him between his nose.

Rhys squeezed his eyes shut and let out a cry as a pool of blood dripped from his nostrils like a slow stream of water they were still partially wet from. A crack and a hat fallen from atop his attacker's head and they were standing. He kicked hard at her shin, causing her to hold it protectively, giving Rhys the opportunity to push her down. They both heard the thump from Fiona's head hitting the first step.

Choosing to ignore the red, warm and thin, pooling down the back of her neck, staining already stained clothes, she charged forward with a yell. Attempting to block again, he failed, her shoulder crashing against his chest, making him spit up collected blood onto himself and her.

Awestruck, they both yielded, just watching each other pant and balance. Eyelids drooping, emotions crushed, Rhys bent down with a hurt moan to flimsily grab her battered hat in one fake hand and the pristine Vault key in the other. The steel arm extended to her, hat dangling from it's fingers.

She took it, weakly putting it back on before sniveling. " Please... Just give it to me... " Fiona cried quietly, looking back at the man in a ruined suit and the object he held. 

With a look of abject misery her shook his head from side to side.

" Please! " An angrier voice was hoarse, pleading desperately. 

Rhys held it firmly in both hands, quivering ever so slightly, frightened of what she might do next, yet knowing full well he earned it.

" ...I-I'm sorry, Fiona. " He whimpered. 

What part of her left that wasn't battered and bruise could ever be mad at him? A maddening, gross hatred would be snuffed out by the power a saddened look, an honest look from this man that cared so much about her could never do as much damage as she had ever had before. She didn't trust Pandora to orbit the stars without that look.

He was honest, more than he had ever been in his entire life. Even if he was sorry all he wanted, maybe or somehow more than that key was his Fiona to understand that. If he could use his skin to patch up each and every one of her wounds, her mental and psychical scars gained from him and everyone else he would. In a heartbeat, all of them. 

 

Just not today.

 

Fiona gulped, " I know, Rhys... It's okay... " She lied., but she was always a convincing liar, even lying to herself if she even thought for a second that she wasn't doing the same to herself. Somehow, she really did forgive Rhys. How couldn't she? He dragged her through hell with no sight, and then did the exact same again except literally.

Not looking her in the eye, he turned, slowly walking out of the Vault's exit. His back concealing stray tears still balling down cut cheeks the salt from them stung with no remorse. And with no drama left, he was gone, leaving Fiona alone in the Vault they originally fought for.

Sitting, her legs bunched up, knees covering her eyes, feeling her clothes getting even wetter from the blood and tears unable to stop. She was so conflicted, but it did little to stop her weeping from filling the Vault. Fiona was right about one thing, though, in that moment. That break that was sliding out of her grasp at each attempt at capture  _had_ fallen out of the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed my writing format slightly, this will continue in Chapter 3. It's only slightly so I wont edit the previous chapter.
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/


	3. Fickle Fibula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'My sunflower.
> 
> My ringpip.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/

 

** **

 

 

**The Dust,**

**Very early morning,**

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

A now bitterly familiar sound of clattering tin walls meeting with a hailstorm of sand cooed the sleeping couple. Same sand that made it unable to see the peeking of the sun as morning crept in. If it was even there to begin with. A glaze of purple washed past Fiona's sealed eyelids and manically twitching pupils. The precursor memories of how they had ended up away from family, away from work -- bruised and beaten. Their instincts of first in the ring, first out died along with their plans in the Vault.

And fleeting dreams of Rhys' betrayal was slowly haunting her awake amid the stoked flames of their small fire bouncing amber off the storm.

Tossing in her uncomfortable slumber on a slab of ripped cardboard, lights sparking in her mind, Fiona's eyes fluttered open, lashes coated in particles of sand. Her teeth ground lightly, almost instinctively from frustration. Moving even slightly upwards was a chore on her aching muscles that strained to carry them here, strained to open that safe. But now -- now her eyes were locked on something else.

It was hard to avoid the glimmer Rhys' briefcase made against the sandstorm and other metals of the shack. Rhys clutched his briefcase, even in rest. The leg covered more from the sand, clearly doing his own work on it. His ATLAS hoodie tied tightly into a knot around it. So she crawled slowly towards him, gentle, digging fingers into deep and cooling sand along the way. The indentation made from her soft movements would be blown away along with the rest of this shelter in time.

A hand reached out, finger nails scrapping so delicately across the surface of the metal case. The scratching noise made her eardrums tingle in delight, blocking out the rush of winds around her.  

Rhys opened his eyes, jumping at her presence with a grimace of pain, an orange glow from his ECHO-Eye filling her features, practically feeling his shadow envelop the one she cast. Her scent was intoxicating, bitter, like artificial fruit and dust lingering on what little air they had. His mouth felt like it was going to explode with words and shatter his glimmering, white teeth. Though, thinking long back, he realized how hypocritical that would be.

" Fiona! " He yelled in surprise, sitting up to rapidly scurry away from her.

" What's in there?! " She shouted, retracting her hand like a claw when the con artist knew her mistakes had pinned her in the corner once again.

He blabbered, " That's confidential- " 

Fiona smirked something wicked as she examined the man before her.

" ...You have no idea, do you? "

" -No, not in the slightest. Can't get the damn thing open either. It's a combination lock... "

A pleased smile drew itself onto Fiona's face as she started to laugh.

" Where'd you get it? " She asked, sitting down closer to him now, feeling heat from their campfire even more as he struggling to do the same. His hands gently lifting up his broken leg as if it were the heaviest bag of money in a heist, moving the support along with it before Rhys laid it back down. His wince and hiss of mild pain started their conversation, the two sitting either side of the charred wood. 

The graying smoke swam on the wind out the cracks and tears in their shack, giving the couple a view of each tired eye. By now, Rhys had eased his grip on the case, his worn, stained thumbs twirling along the ridges of the pristine lock. Each tick it made like the hand of a clock, but barley audible. 

" I... Well, I _acquired_ it. " The man bumbled in an unconvincing tone.

She grew teasingly impatient, her realizations of just how much she missed this chemistry caught in her throat as if it were piano wire around a neck. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him.

" Is that right? "

He nodded shortly, " Yeah. " Rhys made tension by looking down at the chrome, heavy briefcase, looking at his pale. gaunt face, a bloodless half-husk in the dirty reflection.

" Then let me change up my question; " Fiona said bluntly, leaning forward and so clearly mocking. " How did you _acquire_ it? " She derided his words.

Rhys swallowed harshly, knowing she was trying to coax him into the truth. But the truth to him was strenuous and embarrassing -- it even broke his leg. But her eyes full of fire was stronger than the one before him ever could be. More powerful than any of his employees keeping secrets from him.

 

At least it would take his mind of the bone trying to escape his leg.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Atlas Building, Old Haven,**

**5 hours before the Lynchwood Heist**

* * *

 

 

 

 

" Oh, so you're a thief as well as an asshole, huh, kid? --Or are you on a schedule now, big boss an' all? Asshole on weekdays -- thief every other Tuesday, that it? "

" Please. Just leave me alone. " Rhys cooed into the darkness around him, feeling weightless inside and out, as if his organs were trying to climb out his mouth. 

" Wish I could, Rhysie. Really wish I could. I mean -- fuck, do I wish I could leave but I just can't.  "

He grit his teeth roughly, " Then _why_ don't you? "

" Gotta ask yourself that, pumpkin. ...Guilt? "

Rhys laughed dumbly into the void as a reply.

" Alright, jeez, don't have to be a dick about it. I get though; kill all y' coworkers, probably their families, few kids for good measure. Smashed the shit out of me -- even I thought that was impressive after rippin' out y' damn arm, fucking gnarly! "

He stood in silence with his arms crossed, eyes closed. But he could barley tell anymore.

" And I felt it, y'know, Rhys? Oh, I felt it... Ever been burnt real bad? Actually burnt, not someone telling you a zinger they totally stole behind your back. I mean, that burns as well but it's besides my point. --It burnt. That tiny piece of me left ground in y'palm because you hadn' got nearly enough blood on those traitorous hands, huh? "

" How do you know? "

" Wha'd'ya mean? 'How do I know?' "

Rhys inhaled sharply.

" How do you know how it felt when you're dead, Jack?.. "

The dead man circled Rhys as he puckered his lips and breathed out heavily.

" Not my fault you got a messed up head. Wonder who else is in here? " He laughed as he paced quickly around the never ending mass of blackness.

" Shut up- "

" Ever met Nisha? God, she was neat, such a babe. Had a way with words. I mean, that didn't matter when she had a freakin' whip, but I guess my tastes are just a lil' out there, y'know? -- "

" -Shut up! " Rhys cried, pressing his hands over his ears, the valiant attempt doing nothing to stop Handsome Jack from talking.

Jack started laughing manically, which each booming quake of his voice Rhys's inner-ears rumbled.

"You couldn't stop me before, kiddo! What makes you think you can stop me now? "

Other footsteps pressing and squeaking against a polished floor filled his mind, each crash adding some blinding white light into the blackness. The older man inched closer to his killer, pressing his hands on his shoulders and gripping them as if wanting to choke the life from them.

" Hear that? Yeah, you know what that is. Our little play-date's ending. "

Rhys found his eyes transfixed on his tormentor's, wanting to scream and run from them but to no prevail. A deer caught in the head lights of a loaded tank about to shell the animal into a blood soaked oblivion. 

" I would tell ya to rest easy if that weren't impossible. I can't wait to see you again though, buddy. Because no matter how loud it gets you wont go deaf. No matter how bright you wont go blind... I'm going to drive you crazy!.. "

Oddly, Rhys felt his eyes opening as he collapsed onto an unfamiliar surface that he knew too well. A familiar buzz as his cybernetic switched on and the nightmare was replaced by his lavish, bright office graced by the light of the afternoon pierced huge windows to his left. A view of his empire.

 

_" Oh, how far you've fallen. "_

 

Those footsteps resonating closer and closer against the film turned into a voice as they stopped just beside the desk his upper body, arms and head rested on.

" Sir?.. " A bemused Chief Risk Officer, Sebastian asked at the sight of his boss sleeping and drooling on a very expensive piece of custom made office utility.

The CEO was so tired that even shifting his head felt like a struggle. But professionalism on the breaking point persisted and nagged at him to fully lift himself up, lights covering his chrome robotic arm glistening against the glossy film of his wine colored desk.

He let out a low groan and rubbed his face. " Bailyn?.. " The boss asked, on a last name basis.

" Still thinking about her? " Sebastian's coy words in his soft, rural American accent attempted to wake him fully up. " Last time you were this pent up Janice found you curled up under- well, under where you're sleeping now at two in the afternoon. Sir. " He laughed, almost mockingly. " Working hard or hardly working? " 

" Hey, I am working! " Rhys snapped in a low voice, lying, " I'm doing my job! " His words caught in his throat, making his shrewd voice sound even more jarring. 

" So am I, sir. " Sebastian practically cut him off from such a fast response.

The younger man slid an electronic invoice across the desk with a satisfyingly straight slide.

" So is everyone else trying to fit back into Atlas. " 

Rhys brushed off the snide attitude and picked up the invoice, fingers practically magnetized as his heavy metal fingers tapped against the lighter, grey, metal casing, reading it through, past a tired and cloudy eye holding up dark sunken bags. Suddenly, he started to groan again, lowly, rubbing his face with his hand.

" What the hell is this? " He sighed.

" The Yazback Will, sir- "

" I know what it is, Bailyn. "

" Then why ask? " 

" Because it's the invoice for a cargo trade made just under two decades ago by a dead man, off planet, from a dead deal. " Rhys slid the thin tablet back to his colleague. " Think you fished this out instead of the assessment report I  _didn't_ ask for. "

" B-But it's not a dead _deal_ , sir. It's still out there, waiting- lost Atlas property, it's never moved! They've built around it, collecting interest, just waiting for it to be claimed- "

Looking befuddled and irritated, Rhys stood up with some effort from his classical wooden chair. " I'm sorry, Bailyn, but how the hell do you know this? Christ, you work in risk management not damn shipping. "

Sebastian slid the invoice back again and stepped back from the desk, staring down his boss. " I was asked for your signature of approval. To give the cargo to shipping. "

" Oh? Is that right? " Rhys asked through gritted teeth. 

" Yeah. " The CRO spat back quickly. 

Fingers drummed along the shimmering surface, light from the windows getting into the ECHO-Eye searching the suspicious employee for a tell. Cranes and towers from the outside played into a shadow puppet's theater against the walls surrounding the massive high-rise office. A blank canvas he stole. Maybe he was a thief. Just like her.

" You aren't leaving unless I sign this, are you? "  

" No. No, sir, I'm not. " 

The noise of his secretary typing outside was chipping away at him like a ice sculpture. He snatched the Yazback Will off the table, gliding his metal hand over the holographic screen to add a particularly messy signature. Instead of sliding it back he threw the invoice lightly towards Sebastian, making him stumble a bit to catch it, squeaking across the floor again, leaving him to adjust his Atlas uniform and pace off without a thank you, growing smaller in contrast to the length and size of the room he fled from.  

" You're welcome! " Rhys yelled as his cohort left his sight.

Immediately after the dimming footsteps ceased, he stripped off his jacket, walking in long strides across the room to the large set of double doors, opened from Sebastian's exit. Besides were pegs, holding onto a black, hexed hooded jacket that was swiftly replaced by his work jacket. He jabbed his real and fake arms into the sleeves before exiting his room, spotting his secretary waving at him as he did from her desk upon a slightly raised up podium.

" Janice! " He called to her, slowly approaching her small, simple desk himself, standing so he was above her.

" Good afternoon, sir! " Janice said sweetly, a bright and genuine smile hiding the wrinkles of late middle-age.

" Hi-Yeah- Did you see which way Bailyn went? Sebastian Bailyn, just left my office? " 

" What's the matter? You seem so flustered!.. " The secretary whined as she played with the sleeves of her sweater-jumper.

" I'm ninety percent sure a higher up is about to do something illegal and I need to know where he went so I can give him a brain aneurysm. Because I'm so stupid I signed an ancient document giving full control of property to shipping in order for him to leave me alone. "

"Oh, sir! Don't you remember the last time you got into a fight? That punching bag you got for the office really did a number on you, you poor thing! "

No matter how sarcastic his secretary sounded it was all genuine concern. Another Hyperion employee delighted to have a job, one better than before, yet still disgustingly stereotypical. But Rhys genuinely appreciated her seemingly fake concern. Reminded him of Fiona and Sasha, the way they grew on him and him to them. But even fruit that grows won't stay fresh forever. Everything rots and rots around him. Even his mind.

Maybe he was having a brain aneurysm.

" Where is he, Janice? " He asked more sternly than rushed.

Her smile persisted through his tone from years of previous experience. " He went down to the left side corridor. And I heard the elevator! " 

" Is that the elevator that goes down to the ground floor? "

" Yes sir! "

" Ground floor where shipping is? "

" Yes sir! " 

" Terrific. " Rhys bite out sarcastically as he pulled his hood up and moved off the podium and down towards the wide left side corridor. His steps could cause seismic shock if they were more furiously determined. " I'll be out awhile! "

" What if anyone calls?! " She asked, playing more nervously with her sleeves, running loose strands of cotton through her fingers and past rings.

Choosing to ignore her he pushed forward, altering his hood's position as he pasted workers and office cubicles in the business sector. Finally reaching a glass elevator he took it down to the ground floor, the speed and force making blood rush to his head, waking him up even more. The view as it moved down the towering skyscraper always amazed him. Worker robots liberating bandit camps still littering the quarantined headquarters as more ATLAS buildings of sparkling silver ovals stood mighty in their place, ready to be filled with ex-Hyperion and what _very_ little of ATLAS remained after Athena's reckoning.

The lift stopped with a clank and a thud followed by the ping of the doors parting vertically. Shipping was one of the main sections of the ground floor, an almost airstrip holding the cargo and crates of freshly manufactured weapons, shields, food products. And the workers, one of whom Rhys could already see someone in an out of place uniform talking too past a stairwell leading up to scaffolding. With his hands in his jacket pockets he slipped by the reverberating noise of construction and chatter echoing and bouncing off the walls until he reached a safe distance from Sebastian and a female accomplice.

Pale girl, younger than Sebastian, ginger hair either poorly dyed black or masked by soot and oil from the factories on the walk to the cargo bay. The conversation they had could already be overheard by those interested enough to stop lifting crates.

" -Yeah, I mean, if you've got the codes I got the ship, this will be easy. " The woman said to Sebastian, who was looking around nervously in all the wrong directions. 

" Wait, you got the ship? We don't even know how big the cargo is, Iona! why did you get a ship? " He hissed back through a friendly smile. 

Iona smiled back. " I figured if we're going for unlicensed loot behind our boss's back we needed an unlicensed ship. Just think of it as a getaway sorta deal. "

" Hopefully I can just walk in and out, no need for a getaway, thanks. " Sebastian chuckled. " I'll call you when I got it, pick me up then and we can kiss Pandora goodbye. I've done enough ass-kissing, maybe we can go back for Tediore... See your Mom again, right? "

" Does that mean we have to share? " She joked.

" I'm heading to the Highlands. Keep an eye out for me okay? " Sebastian said in a serious tone before hugging her, creasing both their uniforms.

Whatever was happening Rhys wanted to know. Needed to know. Even if he was the one in charge this was about dignity, upholding something. And he was more ready to deal with any accomplices that caused trouble. But he followed Sebastian out the hanger instead, trailing behind him each step he took.

 

 

 

 

**~~-~-~~ **

 

 

 

 

" My, my; a rouge employee doing deals behind their boss? Doesn't that sound familiar? "

Fiona chimed in, earning an uneasy stare from Rhys.

" ...How long you been having nightmares about Jack? "

" Every night. " He replied bluntly.

Fiona grimaced at the idea of a ghastly phantom eating away at any rest he could have. Especially when it was self taught. Made her feel compelled to comfort him, strangely. But that feeling had been eating at her since they met again. Maybe she was guilty.

" Are they all the same? "

" I wouldn't know. I know that they happened and will happen. But they all just blur into one. "

" How long have you been having them? " Her onslaught of questions craved answers.

" Before the Vault. " Rhys timidly sighed while tightening his hoodie's knot around his leg, causing him to wince.

" God... " Fiona's high pitch tone was a mix of sympathy and disappointment. " And you didn't even mention it? "

He pursed his lips and frowned before replying.

" No one ever asked about me after the crash. Guess no one cared when I finally got those deeds and starting making cash. "

" Have you slept? " She asked softly.

" Not a wink, no. I could hear you trying to be all stealthy and sneaking up on me. "

" You looked so peaceful. " The con artist said honestly behind a facade of sarcasm.

" Nice waking up to you for a change. " Rhys replied with a pleasant smirk.

The con artist's eyes widened before they fled his gaze, Rhys's comment narrowly hitting him as he realized what honeyed words fell from his mouth. They both sat, listening to the storm surround them, an odd comfort of escaping the world and staying trapped in their own fortress. Unless it was just a bizarre form of Stockholm Syndrome or a mirage to block out the idea that this storm may not end soon enough.

Other than occasionally clearing their throats to avoid hacking up sand no of them spoke a word. The CEO used a loose stick to play with the fire before him, mustering in some courage to speak up, as if the fire had moved from his thin, rotting slab of wood up into his chest from shared contact.

" Ever heard of Magnus of Sweden? " The shaken man asked, shattering the silence.

Fiona shook her head, hat moving with it.

Rhys expected that. " I read about him. "

She looked unconvinced.

" Okay, fine; I heard about him because Vaughn reads out-loud because it makes him sound smart. "

He earned a quick chuckle from Fiona.

" He was this king. Fifth king -- I think. Whichever number that _I V_   is. Ruled over the place in his title... It was either a planet or a country, I get those confused a lot. " Rhys already started to trail off. " Went all across taking land and making a name for himself. People hated him but he just liked power. Did some good things, outlawed slavery. But for every slave freed, taxes would be raised. Ultimate double standard. Came to the point where whenever he set out, that would be it, that would become part of his land. No say from the people already there or they'd start a war. "

" Why are you telling me this? Is there a message or something I'm not picking up on? " Fiona asked quizzically, an eyebrow inadvertently raised.

" Power makes tyrants, I guess? Starts off by getting a little carried away, doing some bad shit. Next thing you know you're dying barley young, convinced you're a hero when everyone hates you. " Rhys took a deep breath out. " What does that make me? "

Fiona interjected, " You're _not_ a bad person, Rhys. And you are _not_ a tyrant. " Her emotions and sudden affection was driving her again.

" Maybe not. But I'm still everything I hate. Either a Jack or a Vasquez. And those aren't lines I wanna cross. And I don't know if I want to change either. "

" ...You said he died 'young'. How did he die?.. " She asked on shallow air.

The CEO took his time to reply, staring down at the fire as he toyed it with a stick.

" He died on a shipwreck. " He finally spoke, bitterly mimicking her. " Doesn't that sound familiar? "

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**The Highlands - Outwash,**

**1 hour before the Lynchwood Heist**

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sebastian's first leg of his journey ended at a train station in The Highlands. Formerly Hyperion, but after Helios crashed everything of the company left on Pandora was a fight to see who could recolonize it first. Atlas got more than lucky as it rolled across the baron planet like a ravenous dust bowl. Trams rhythmically running on time to the noise of bustling loader bots refurbished for ATLAS paved their way for the hunt taking place. 

Rhys had tailed his digistructed path of vehicles for hours across the planet. Making him question if any of this was working about as much as he was questioning his colleagues motives. Was it from love for this woman? Did he owe her? Or were they just greedy and eager to steal old company property? He had all the credentials to get past checkpoint after checkpoint, guard after guard, until Sebastian''s hard soled, heeled spats touched down on artificial grass, far too green to look passable. But that went for just about everything fresh and new on this planet; it was wrong.

A shimmering arched but clearly old Hyperion buildings raised up by a smooth, arched platform was taking passengers on trains that barley belonged. Old, rusted over and long automated trains either hovered into the tracks or grind against them with dull, yellow sparks accompanying them. It was no wonder it was practically a ghost town other than workers. Almost perfect if you needed to get somewhere without anyone knowing, especially if you had the excuses and credentials too get there.

His pursuit moved him past the grass too pure to press one's weight on, across the rectangular base shielded from moonshots of the past. Small craters even littered the field, long been covered over like the rest of the land and dirt. Hyperion even lied about what was under their own feet it seemed. And feet began to pick up speed when Sebastian came into sight of Rhys's Echo-Eye, the wind blowing his hood off, knocking in the realization that we was about to board the train above.

Huffing and puffing like a dog panting he already felt the energy drain from his body from running after further walking. But he wasn't about to wait another hour for a train into Lynchwood, as the neon sign of blue littered in either specs of dirt or dead bugs clearly displayed. Running just reminded him of being by her side again. This animal instinct to push forward, stop when she did and repeat that cycle, endless turning until he placed a wall made of towers in-between them. 

And that's what kept Rhys running -- running past miles of grass for reasons he barley knew. Just the image that, when he closed his drying eyelids shut from from air like knives against skin, she was besides him doing the same, even up flights of stairs. All his friends and family, happily fighting over guns and money. Opening the Vault didn't change much compared to the race to that archway, brighter than the sun.

 

  ~~ **-~-**~~

 

 

 

  

" Rhys, what you just said earlier. " Fiona cut off his story, very hypocritically. 

" What about it? " Irritated words were as tired as he was.

" I know. I mean, I don't know what it must have felt like to know you took so many lives, and I'm not here to sugarcoat about how it wasn't your fault. But, maybe you shouldn't let what you did then change what you can do now. "

" Every night, Fiona. I can't sleep without being tortured. "

" Then we'll get you help. Go all over Pandora trying to fix you, just like we used to before. "

" We? " Rhys chortled. 

" Look what's happened the last time all of us left- "

" Yeah, and look what's happened now we're back together. My leg's broken, we're trapped in a shack and Sasha's probably out looking for you. Fuck, look what happened before you met me. Probably could have been set up for life with Hyperion money for a fake Vault key and... "

Her teeth scrapped along themselves as she waited for what she knew he was about to say. " And?.. "

The man leaned back against the sand on his hands, looking up to avoid her icy eyes.

" You wouldn't have killed Felix. "

" And I suppose you blame yourself for that? " Fiona accused. " Because I don't. And I don't regret anything that happened, even if I killed him. Because I wouldn't be here, with you, right now if I hadn't. And if I had never met you or Vaughn or your stupid robot pal then I would be another mundane bandit on this rock waiting to die. " 

" Don't say that, Fiona- "

She pointed sternly at him. " What do you want me to say? That life was so fun and exciting having to steal before this stupid asshole and his stupid friend fell out the sky and finally gave me a real family, a purpose?! That I wonder why it's even worth going on when they leave you and end up back at square one?! " Fiona almost shrieked against the slapping and thrashing of tin, tears pooling past her cheeks and lips, warming her face.

Another bout of almost-silence ached their ears as tears were wiped and frowns faded. Rhys sat back up with a grunt as he steadied his leg. Fiona took her hat off, using the black fabric to cover her face she was attempting to fix after her outburst. Unexpectedly, Rhys smiled. A small like smile made of cracked lips rubbing against one another.

" ...You really feel that way? " He asked quietly in an upbeat tone, bordering on disbelief.

_If only he knew._

"Yes. Yes -- of course I do. " Fiona sniffed as she put her hat back on. " So. Finally figure out you could use your legs to do more than walk and catch Sebastian? " 

Rhys replied, uneasily, " Sorta... "  

 

 

 

 

 ~~ **-~-**~~  

 

 

 

 

" Sebastian! " The boss called across carriages to the man, a choice he'd soon regret as he steadied himself on a railing and wall of a waiting station buzzing with vending machines.

Almost jumping out his skin he turned, eyes widened in surprise. " R-Rhys?! " Sebastian shouted as the train's door closed and took off to Lynchwood in a plume of blackened smoke polluting the air.

Rhys almost fell to his knees as the carriages followed suite, feeling a wave of embarrassment hit him, as if a bullet was just encased between his eyes. The eyes that looked up to the neon arrival and departure sign as the arrival time for the next station approach was one hour. And with that realization he stood up, limping over to the inside of the waiting station, buying a ticket from a service vending machine and sitting down in another huff, for all the wrong reasons this time.

The paper ticket shifted from hand to hand, in between the crevices between each finger as the long wait began. With no one else other than robots and vending machine mascots to share in his pity.

 

 

 

 

**~~-~-~~ **

 

 

 

 

Fiona bite her lip as she began to laugh. " Wow. Really not your brightest move, was it? Did you actually have to wait for another carriage?! "

Rhys played with his thumbs while looking down at his broken leg. " I might have... "

" An hour? "

He nodded sheepishly. 

" No matter what happens, no matter where you are or how much changes you're always just so... "

The stooge looked up her, expected the meanest of her playful scoldings.

" You're just so _Rhys_. " She grinned, tilting her head slightly. " And I don't think you're ever gonna change. No matter how corrupt or evil you're always going to be so- "

" Dumb? " He answered for her. 

" I was going to say great, but I guess dumb works as well. " Fiona mocked.

Without warning, amidst the glow of the fire and lowering moon she stood up, making a few small steps until she sat right besides him to his right. Wrapping her arms around her knees as he smiled as wide as she'd seen since they opened the obsidian chest in the Vault. The leg Rhys hadn't broken was crossed, giving him room to stretch out and yawn as the realization that the sun was almost coming up dawned.

" Maybe just skip ahead an hour. Want to hear the cool part from your perspective. Probably a lot of screaming before you found me. Well... There was a lot of screaming after that. "

" Yeah, I did scream a lot... " He nodded, emphasizing his last two words.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Lynchwood Station,**

**After the heist**

* * *

  

 

 

 

The clicks and clanks of the empty tram that carried Rhys stopped with a crash and a painful grind, almost sending him soaring out his seat. Suddenly, without warning, the harsh yellow of the lights shut off, replaced by a siren and a loud, bellowing voice from the speakers.

" Citizens! This is Sheriff Winger! The time to panic is now, we have a robbery underway! Run and scream to the nearest shelter until a peace keeper escorts you and provides emergency blankets! This message will repeat as I simply can't figure out how to turn off the sirens, we haven't had a crime in so long -- I don't know why I'm still talki- " 

The siren's message repeated, earning an eye roll from Rhys as he scrambled to force the carriage doors open. They were loose from years of rust, surprising him at the thought of how the tube of death even managed to get him to the station. Or stuck in the station's entrance way.

He cautiously walked at a fast pace towards the light of the station, reaching only wanting to leave as he spotted the bustle of people either hiding, screaming or overreacting. The latter seemed common, the more the masses panicked, the more chaos caused. And with the chaos Rhys already heard gunshots from the town. He jolted up the stairs, wanting to ignore a robbery and find his rouge element. Not even considering the possibility he was the one that caused this insanity.

With the amount of military police clearly unprepared for any kind of crime one would think they were going to war. Armed to the brim with Jakobs's rifles of varying rarity. It was disturbingly impressive, even being out in the make-shift streets that would never hold a car their formations were rhythmical. Either they were scared enough to fight or they'd been waiting for this moment a very long time.

More bangs were haunting the now ghost town, kicking the young man back into gear, using his legs again after a long break. Maybe too long considering how weak they felt against the dusty tarmac below him. And a glimmer of a still, metallic object in the distance held in a death grip by a corpse confirmed his fears. As Sebastian lay dead, peppered in bullet holes and tossed against the pillar of a water tower. The object in his hand, a briefcase, marked in the Atlas logo and brandishing an employee name on the handle.

 _Yazback_.

This was what remained of an off-planet cargo deal from so long ago. A remnant of ATLAS, a piece of history. And it was back in company hands. Sebastian's lifeless, brown eyes had rolled into the back of his head, the cold, pale hand much looser than it looked on the iron handle. Rhys took it, looking down at his employee on bent knees, knowing he could have nothing but fire him to stop this quest. It didn't even matter how he died, if a civilian got spooked or some officer had an itchy trigger finger that needed to be scratched. What mattered to him right now was what he could see over a jagged clifftop, from what looked like a bank building in the distance. 

Fiona stood, with a seemingly unconscious woman as a human shield and derringer at the ready, surrounding by police. She had no exits other than a mad dive besides a large dumpster, pristine and new houses of colorful brick surrounded the out of place scenery. So Rhys kept running, faster than before -- faster than ever before. All his mistakes ready to pour out into a mess after his heroic rescue. That was before his feet felt lighter below him, and air seemingly flowed upwards as he forgot to call the elevator.

A million, billion thoughts flashed through his head as he fell:

Why he was so stupid?

Was he about to die?

Would the nightmares finally stop?

Did she see?

If she hadn't, she would have heard the snap of his leg, a maroon tinted bone splintering out his leg, giving Fiona the time she needed as the guards became entranced by screams of agony in the distance. The con artist pushed her hostage into the crowd with all her force, causing their guns to target the innocent bank manager. A once fresh suit now recolored just Rhys's exposed fibular was as Fiona dove to the green dumpster, one in better condition than her former partner in crime that she spotted through the bustling suburbia.

" Rhys?! " She screamed in shock, concealing her derringer and sprinting towards her friend, feeling particles of sand hitting her as an opportunity to escape warped the clouds into a flurry.

The storm was coming.

 

 

 

 

**~~-~-~~ **

 

 

 

 

" So... I guess that's that then. " Fiona sighed.

" I guess it is. " Rhys threw his stick into the fire, watching the dying flame barley burn through the aged wood.

" I'm sorry about Sebastian. " 

" It's fine. Better him gone, I guess. "

Fiona put her hand on Rhys' looking him in the eyes. " He was you, Rhys. He just wasn't so lucky. Expect you didn't have an awesome boss to give your condolences to your buddies on Helios. What was his friend's name again? "

" Iona? " He responded. " I don't know her. "

" It doesn't matter. Because I know what makes you so different from Jack. " Fiona cooed, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand.

" ...What? "

She shrugged and smiled warmly. " Kindness. "

Rhys nodded and smiled back at her, a watery eye catching some of the stray light around them. " If we get out of her I'll her. Maybe help her get off Pandora. "

Her hand slowly slid back off his, her eyes back in the fire before Rhys spoke up again.

" Something I don't understand... Why was the safe empty? "

" You're guess is as good as mine. " Fiona chuckled behind melancholy.

" So. What happens now? " He asked, a twinge of concern on his words that almost came off as pity.

" Look for another 'big break' I guess. "

Rhys pursed his lips and bit the air between his teeth, looking down at his briefcase on his good leg. " What were you looking for again? "

" Manufacture tech or something. I dunno... "

" Which one?.. "

" Older one, I think- " Fiona's eyes widened in her shared realization with him.

" And this safe looked like- "

" It had been built around, out of place... " She finished his sentence.

The CEO turned the briefcase around, showing the worn, 3 dials on the combination. " And the safe code was a three digit lock? "

All she could manage to do was whisper his name. " Rhys... " 

He turned the first dial to _1_ , followed by _7_ and finally _5_ , making an audible pop fill the air, smashing any tension left in the desecrated shack. Fingertips grazed over the lid of the case, slowly pulling it open, revealing a plaid lined, pristine fabric that coated the walls, a fabric that cushioned gracefully stacks upon stacks of dollars, almost spilling from the case.

" Completely unregistered company money from an off-world cargo trade that went  _better_ than I thought it did... " Rhys gawked in amazement at the practically glowing green as pure as the grass from the Highlands train station. His hand slipped off the open lid and instead pressed hard against the treasure before them.

Fiona looked at him, nervously, expected greed and want in his real eye, just like before -- with the Vault key rolling down that flight of floating stairs. But there wasn't any in his eye. There was kindness. The smile on his face turned from a dumb grin to a serious and straight, tight lipped expression as he moved the case onto her lap.

" It was going to be yours anyway... Unregistered money, useless to me. " Rhys soothed with a hoarse voice. " Besides -- I owe you... "

New life was in her hands. For her, for Sasha, even August if he wanted to come. A blank ride off Pandora's brown planes and onto distant stars of unimaginable splendor. All her dreams, all the waiting and want for so many years falling into place. Fiona wanted to scream, her face was so numb and raw from the sand and heat of the fire she couldn't tell if she was crying or not. But as soon as the ideas of what lay ahead confront her and crept up like a gentle stream so did he. Abandoning him again, leaving everything. Living in luxuries unimaginable while he rotted away, alone, in an office, loosing his mind. Vaughn only able to do so much. 

Which is why she ran her knuckles against the felt and paper dollars one last time before knocking them off her lap into the fire, igniting it into full glory once again as the storm didn't carry notes away. The sand outside had stopped, and nothing was left to save the money slowly crinkling into a black mass only comparable to what Rhys described in his dreams. And when only the bills were left to serve as kindling, and the flames soon died down, they both noticed the magenta rays of a blood orange sun sneak into the shack.

His shock and high pitched voice never came, his body forcing itself to hold back tears at what he prayed were her motives. " Fiona?.. What have you done? "

" I love you, Rhys!.. " Fiona sobbed in gasps, lower lip quivering and more tears shed as she spilled her feelings over the finally clear air.

What could have been mocked by a blue phantom or a quip from a coworker or friend was replaced by sweet silence.  Noticing how real it finally was, how real all of this was. Rhys' hands held onto Fiona's as he leaned forward, colliding his lips against her's he was desperate to stop shaking. Her hands moved to his neck, pulling his upper body close to her, his own arms wrapping around her as tears melting into one another as tired and scarred faces grew closer with each hungry kiss. The fire finally dying over their embrace. And the rising sun shone _silver_ , brighter than it ever had before over a desert of now settled sand.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Magnus, how far you've fallen.
> 
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> 
> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> I am open to all criticism.  
> And, of course, thank you very much for reading.
> 
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> 
> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/


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